


50 Shades of Gold

by stepquietly



Category: Golden Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - 50 Shades Of Grey, Crack, F/M, Podfic Welcome, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepquietly/pseuds/stepquietly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blanche shrugs. “Oh, I suppose because he likes things of a certain nature.” She draws the last two words out.</p><p>Rose looks confused.”What nature?”</p><p> “He’s a pervert,” Sophia translates for her.</p><p>“Oh,” she says, and nods, still confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	50 Shades of Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impertinence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impertinence/gifts).



> Beta read by im_not_a_lizard.

"Oh girls, you will not _believe_ what happened to me today!" Blanche says as she walks into the kitchen. She’s still stuffing her keys into her purse, lipstick slightly mussed, and there’s a little skip in her step.

"I’m doubtful given what I know happens in your bedroom.” Sophia interrupts, barely looking up from where she’s mixing ingredients for pasta pesto.  

Blanche waves this away, taking it in stride. "Hush, you wrinkled old prune.” She puts her bag on the table and pulls out a chair so she can sit with Dorothy and Rose. “Anyway,” she begins again, “I had to go in today to speak to my tax accountant, Chester – you know Chester? – and when we were done I realised that Chester’s offices were in a really nice, expensive building.”

Dorothy looks wary. “Blanche, did you watch Oceans Eleven again last night?”

Blanche pouts. “No, though I probably should have. Eleven men, all united by one real purpose, and only one woman who’s already married? It’d be almost too easy, like fish in a barrel.” She buffs her nails against her linen jacket and examines them while Dorothy rolls her eyes. “But I wasn’t interested in _that_ ; no, I thought I’d take just a quick peek around the other offices to see if I could find a nice eligible man to take me out tonight.”

Dorothy’s been shaking her head in wonder this entire time, and now she cuts in. “Only you could think that it would be all right to wander about a random building to find a date.”

Blanche looks at her like she can’t believe that Dorothy isn’t getting it. “Well, honey, it’s hardly random now, is it? After all, there’s Chester _right there_.”

Dorothy throws her hands in the air.

Blanche ignores her to lean further across the table to continue, aiming her monologue at a fascinated Rose. "So I’m just there, quietly opening doors and seeing what’s available, and would you know it, but there's a man just standing there, staring out the window.” Blanche clasps her hands to her chest and throws her head back as if reliving the moment in all its glory. “A man with buns tight as steel and a tightly cut suit, a thick head of hair and thighs like a lumberjack." She trails off, almost visibly drooling.

“Do you believe this?” Dorothy asks Rose, fed up, and Rose says, wide eyes guileless, “No. He _really_ had a full head of hair?”

Dorothy eyes her with irritated disbelief, lips pursed, while Blanche jumps in to reassure her. "Well, _of course_ he had a full head of hair, Rose! What do you think I am?"

"A slut," Sophia interjects, pulling a pan out of the drawers and continuing with lunch preparations.

Blanche ignores her with the ease of long practice. "Anyway, I go in and – get this – turns out he thinks I'm a journalist come to interview him for the newspaper." Blanche laughs and claps her hands with delight.

Rose gasps, absolutely caught up in the story. "Oh my god, what did you do?!"

Blanche looks coy. "Well, what could I do?”

“Leave,” Dorothy offers.

Blanche eyes her with pity. “This is why you’re single, Dorothy. No head for opportunity knocking.”

Dorothy throws her hands up. “Opportunity didn’t knock because you broke into the man’s office, Blanche.”

Blanche shrugs and sulkily eats a grape out of the fruit bowl. “It’s hardly breaking in if the door’s open.”

“Because he was expecting someone else!” Dorothy’s voice nearly cracks with her frustration.

“That’s hardly my fault.”

Rose is fascinated. “What did you do, Blanche?”

Blanche eyes Dorothy like she’s sizing her up. “I did what any smart, red-blooded American woman would do. I took a piece of paper out my purse and asked him everything that I wanted to know. Was he single? Does he date? How much money does he make on average? Is he interested in older, experienced women?"

Dorothy eyes her, salty. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Blanche titters, pleased. “There’s no shame in love or war, Dorothy.”

“There should be,” Dorothy offers.

Blanche ignores this. “Anyway, he says he's only ever considered experienced women because he'd frighten off virgins."

“Why?” Rose wants to know.

Blanche shrugs. “Oh, I suppose because he likes things of a certain nature.” She draws the last two words out, smug, and pats her hair back into place.

Rose looks confused.”What nature?”

 “He’s a pervert,” Sophia translates for her.

“Oh,” she says, and nods, still confused.

“Sophia,” Blanche chides, laughing. “It’s hardly being a pervert to enjoy some of the more” – she pauses for effect – “sensual experiences of life.”

“What’re those?” Rose wants to know.

“Chlamydia,” Sophia translates.   

“ _Sophia_!” Blanche waves her off. “Anyway, he said he likes older women because they know just what they want.” She holds a hand up pre-emptively before Sophia can say anything, and Sophia swallows the comment.

Rose leans in, rapt. “So what did you do?”

Blanche eyes them all, milking the moment. “What could I do? I flung the pen away, stripped off my clothes, lay on his desk and screamed, ‘take me, Christian Grey! Take me now!’”

Rose looks confused. “Who's Christian Grey?”

Dorothy clenches her fists and yells, "The current president of the United States, Rose!” Rose subsides, shamed.

Dorothy waves Blanche on. “Anyway,” Blanche says, excited, “he took me then and I've got a date tonight!”

Dorothy shakes her head. "Unbelievable," she says, and Blanche laughs, looking like the cat that’s got the cream.

“I know,” Rose concurs, “and to think we voted to put that man in office.”

Dorothy eyes her and then curls one finger, “Rose, come here.”

“What?” She leans in, unsuspecting, and Dorothy smacks her with the paper.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Blanche chirps, “better take some ice for tonight!”


End file.
